


As Fate Would Have It

by searchingwardrobes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childbirth, F/M, Family Feels, Fate, Fluff, Humor, Meet-Cute, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 20:24:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13372416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: Emma Swan is trapped in an elevator with an insanely hot guy. Which would be great. If she wasn't nine months pregnant and her water hadn't just broke.





	As Fate Would Have It

**Author's Note:**

> This is your typical Hallmark channel, trapped in an elevator trope. But it's cute . . .

Approximately nine months ago, Emma Swan had vowed that she would be immune to attractive men and their charms. After all, warm brown eyes and a boyish smile had only gotten her here; alone and about to pop out a kid. Emphasis on _alone_.

Not that many men had looked at her in the last three months with anything close to attraction. When she was in her first trimester, she got hit on all the time because her pregnancy was still her own little secret. Yet her morning sickness combined with her reeling emotions in the wake of Neal’s abandonment had made her far from receptive. Even in her second trimester, you had to look closely to notice the little baby bump under her shirt. It was then, with her suddenly raging hormones, that she had begun to hold fast to the vow with tenacity and barely suppressed rage at the entire male population.

But then she had hit her third trimester, and suddenly men viewed her as either a ticking time bomb or a public service announcement. David said she had far too little faith in his gender as a whole, but Emma stubbornly maintained that the best way to get college guys to actually use those condoms in their back pockets was to flood the campus with waddling pregnant women.

              Yet the guy who had just stepped onto the elevator with her must have been cut from David’s type of cloth, because the look he gave her was one of clear appreciation. He gave her the once over, but instead of his gaze landing on her huge belly in horror or on her constantly enlarging breasts with bug eyes, it landed on her face. His eyes locked on hers, and they were the kind of stunning blue that a girl could drown in. Then he smiled at her. God, what a smile! He could probably get anything with that smile. He could sell ice at the North Pole, parkas in the desert.

              They gave each other that standard nod of acknowledgment, then stood side by side staring at the door like strangers always do on elevators. Emma couldn’t stop her eyes from continually drifting towards him to study his profile of perfect features in an insanely attractive face. His hair was dark and thick, screaming for her fingers to touch it. He had scruff along his perfectly cut chin and jaw, but not the lazy “forgot to shave this morning” type of scruff. No. Groomed and maintained scruff. Completely throwing her vow out the window, she indulged in some R rated thoughts imagining how that scruff would feel against certain tender parts of her anatomy. (Little known fact about women nine months pregnant; they may look like beached whales, but they have the hormones of a sixteen year old boy.)

              In the midst of said fantasy, Emma chanced another look his way, only to find him already gazing at her. Their eyes both darted quickly away from one another. Emma fiddled with the end of her long ponytail. He scratched behind his ear. She watched the numbers light up, getting smaller and smaller. He had gotten on at the 8th floor. 6, 5. She struggled to form a coherent sentence. Introduce herself, ask how long he was staying in this hotel. Anything. She wished fervently that he had gotten on at like the 600th floor so she could have more time to make her brain and mouth function at the same time.

              She was jarred from her thoughts literally when a loud screech was immediately followed by a jolting stop that sent her pitching forward. The man next to her responded with lightning fast reflexes, catching her by the shoulders with both hands before she could fall face first.

              “Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes perusing her face with obvious concern. Not her swollen abdomen with panic, like she would expect most men to do. She had stubbed her toe at the super market yesterday, and her loud hiss had made the guy behind her almost pass out.

              “I – I’m okay.” Not the first conversation she had imagined between them. “Aside from the fact that the elevator is stuck.”

              “Yeah,” he agreed, standing and running a hand agitatedly through his hair, “that.”

              They both pulled out their cell phones and groaned almost simultaneously. “No service,” she muttered, “you?”

              Mr. Hottie shook his head. He turned to the elevator buttons and started pressing them. Nothing. They didn’t even light up. Emma leaned over his shoulder and pressed the button that was supposed to open the door. Nothing. Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome hit the emergency button.

              “Isn’t that supposed to make an alarm go off or something?” he asked her when nothing happened. For the first time, she realized he had a British accent. His hot quotient just skyrocketed.

              “I think so, yeah.” She hugged her upper body and sighed. On the one hand, she was glad they didn’t have to listen to a blaring siren while they waited. On the other, how long would they be in here?

              Mr. GQ Model opened the red emergency panel. Inside was a first aid kit, a defibrillator, and a old school phone with a cord. He picked up the phone and tapped the switch. Nothing.

              “Don’t worry,” he told her, “someone will notice this one isn’t moving. I’m sure we won’t be in here long.”

              Emma rubbed her face wearily with both hands. She remembered just a moment ago wishing she had more time on the elevator with Mr. Attractive Stranger. Fate decided to hear her pleas _now_? Careful what you wish for indeed.

              “I’m so sorry,” the man continued, “you must be really uncomfortable.”

              Emma leaned against the back wall of the elevator. “You could say that. I was just thinking when I got on the elevator that I couldn’t wait to get home and prop up my swollen feet.”

              “Well, here,” he told her, another smile alighting his face as he opened the first aid kit. He pulled out one of those thermal blankets that was really a giant piece of aluminum foil, folded up into a small square. “Sit down.”

              He took her gently by the elbow, placing his other hand at her back, and helped her ease to the floor. He put the square of folded blanket at the small of her back, then took off his leather jacket and folded that up at the middle of her back. As if that weren’t enough, he took off his vest and folded that into a quasi-pillow and put it behind her head. So he was a knight in shining armor, too. Perfect.

              He eased onto the floor next to her and put out his hand. “I’m Killian Jones, by the way.”

              She couldn’t help smiling back as she took it. “Emma Swan.” What was that vow again?

              “You said you couldn’t wait to get home. So you’re not staying here at the hotel?” he asked her. On a different day, she might think he was fishing for information. Now she just figured he would say anything to pass the time.

              “No, I was on the top floor offices for a job interview.” Her face fell as she rubbed her stomach. “Not many people are willing to hire a pregnant woman, and as you can see, time is running out.”

              He didn’t give her false hope or empty platitudes, for which she was grateful. After a beat of silence, she gave a wry laugh. “Being a hotel maid was never my goal in life, let me tell you.”

              “It’s only temporary until you get on your feet. I’m sure an intelligent lass such as yourself will find something better sooner rather than later.”

              Emma rolled her eyes. “How do you even know I’m intelligent? I could be a high school drop-out for all you know.” Actually, she _was_ a high school drop-out.

              Killian lowered his head closer to hers and arched one brow, “I didn’t say _educated_ , I said _intelligent_. There’s a difference.”

              Emma crossed her arms and scowled. “Okay then, but you still can’t know I’m intelligent. You’ve known me for what? Five minutes. And all you know is that I’m pregnant and alone.”

              Both his eyebrows hitched up at that. “I never assumed you were alone.”

              Emma’s face turned bright red, and she quickly turned away from his gaze. “Well, now you know. See? Not the sign of someone intelligent.”

              “What? Because you had unprotected sex? Because the relationship you were in ended badly? Plenty of people make those mistakes, and it doesn’t end up the way it has for you. What fate has dealt you says nothing about your intelligence.”

              Her jaw dropped slightly at his words. She had never heard someone speak so forthrightly, and she couldn’t really argue his point. She snapped her jaw shut quickly, and gave a short jerk of her head. “You still don’t know me.”

              “But I do know you’re intelligent, among other things,” he continued to argue, a bit smugly. “See, I have this gift. I’m good at reading people. And you, love, are an open book.”

              “Oh yeah?” She snapped, her own brows shooting up to her hair line. “Well, I’ve got a gift, too. You can call it my superpower. I can tell when people are lying.”

              He met her gaze squarely.

              “So, go ahead,” Emma challenged, “read me.”

              “You sure you want me to do that?”

              Emma nodded, her chin tilted slightly.

              “Okay,” he visibly deflated his posturing, and his gaze became tender, “you’re keeping this baby because you don’t want to abandon him the way you were abandoned.”

              Emma blinked rapidly against the moisture rising in her eyes. “How did you . . .”

              Killian ducked his head and massaged his temple. “All orphans have the same look in their eyes. I know it well because . . . I’ve seen it gazing back at me in the mirror a thousand times.”

              His gaze locked on hers again, and she felt the strangest sense of understanding pass between them. Her own features softened, and they shared tentative smiles. Killian stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back against the wall.

              “I have fond memories of my mother. She was affectionate and bright. And fun. She laughed all the time. But she died when I was still quite young.”

              “How old?” Emma whispered.

              “Seven. My father tried, I suppose, at least for a year. I don’t know if the grief was too great or if he simply didn’t want the responsibility of raising two boys, but one morning my brother and I woke up, and he was just . . . gone.”

              Emma remained quiet as he seemed to collect himself. She knew all too well how tough this story was to tell.

              “Liam, my brother, tried the best he could to take care of us. He was only 13. It was two months before a neighbor noticed that our father hadn’t been around. Liam was also having trouble getting us enough food. Anyway, children’s services showed up, and . . .” he trailed off and shrugged, “I lost the only family I had left. We were separated.”

              It was a common story that Emma had seen in the system time and again. Without thinking, she reached out and rested her hand atop his. The next part of his story was familiar to her; being shuffled around from home to home, never wanted or loved.

              “Until one day,” Killian continued, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth, “when I was thirteen, the social worker came once again and told me to pack my bag. But this time, she drove me to the court house. And who should be there, but Liam! He had fought for custody of me, searched high and low until he found me.”

              “You must have been so happy,” Emma said softly.

              Killian laughed. “I was, but I had a funny way of showing it. I kept Liam on his toes. Running away, gambling at school with money I had stolen from him, sneaking out at night. Several times he had to come haul my sorry drunk arse home.”

              “You were afraid he would leave you too, so you thought you would beat him to it.”

              He turned a surprised gaze on her and Emma laughed.

              “It’s a story I’m intimately familiar with,” she explained.

              Killian nodded. “Well, lucky for me my brother is a stubborn git. He wouldn’t give up on me. To the point that he dragged me to the recruitment office and had us both enlisted in the navy. I was 18 and he was 23. He said he just didn’t know how else to straighten me out.”

              “You were in the navy?” Emma asked, surprised.

              Killian chuckled. “Why, I don’t seem like the type?”

              Emma cocked her head as she studied him. Now that she thought about it . . . “No, actually, you are exactly the type.”

              They both laughed and then fell silent again.

              “So,” Emma hedged, gnawing one her bottom lip, “what brings you all the way to Boston from England?”

              “Oh,” he said, his brows rising in surprise, “I live here now, in Boston. So does Liam. We have a business together. I help clients buy fixer uppers or foreclosures and Liam renovates them. That’s why I was here. A family on the 8th floor just moved to town, and I’m helping them search for properties in the suburbs.”

              Emma arched one brow. “So you two are basically the Property Brothers?” Killian just laughed at that, but Emma was thinking that if his brother was half as attractive as he was, they would have their own show on HGTV in no time. Their accents wouldn’t hurt, either.

              “Well enough about me,” Killian sighed. “I haven’t heard your story, Swan. Fitting name, by the way.”

              He waggled his eyebrows at her flirtatiously, and she rolled her eyes. But her smile gave away the fact that she really didn’t mind his antics.

              “Well,” Emma said, gesturing to her very pregnant self, “this pretty much sums it up. Foster kid runs away to live on the streets, meets a fascinating older guy, fast forward a few years, and here I am. About to be a single mom at 22.”

              “He couldn’t be that fascinating if the cad has left you.”

              Emma avoided his gaze. He sounded truly indignant. She picked at a stray thread on her maternity shirt. “In his defense, he doesn’t know about the baby. In my opinion, he doesn’t deserve to”

              Killian took her hand tenderly and threaded their fingers together. “He doesn’t deserve you, either.”

              She shrugged one shoulder as she gave Killian a tentative smile. He seemed to sense that she didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so he shifted gears.

              “I don’t know how much longer we’ll be in here. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

              Emma laughed. “Not unless you want to massage my feet.”

              “Okay,” he said moving around to rest her feet in his lap.

              “Um . . . I was kidding. You don’t want to massage a stranger’s feet. I could have toe fungus.”

              “Doubtful,” he chuckled as he removed her ballet flats.

              Emma sucked in a sharp breath as took her right foot in his hand and started to knead the balls of her feet with his thumbs. He told her to relax, but that was a little hard to do when his every touch sent a shiver up her leg and down her spine. But eventually, the warmth of his fingers and the relief of the aching of her feet made her sort of melt against the wall of the elevator with a sigh. After a few minutes, Killian looked up at her, concern marring his brow.

              “Where are you living?” He asked the question hesitantly, as if he were afraid of offending her.

              Emma shifted as a spasm shot down her lower back. “Don’t worry, I’m not some damsel in distress. I’m staying with a couple of friends.” She let out a pant as a pain shot across her abdomen.

              “Are you okay, Swan?”

              She waved off his concern as she wriggled into a more comfortable position. “Just Braxton-Hicks. False contractions.”

              He took her other foot and began messaging it as well. “How good are these friends? I mean, will they be understanding when the baby is up at night?”

              Emma thought of Mary Margaret practically doing pirouettes around the nursery and cooing about holding the newborn when he arrived. “Believe me,” she chuckled, “David and Mary Margaret aren’t your average friends. They’ve practically adopted me.”

              “Good,” he said, sighing with obvious relief. How could he care so much when they only just met?

              Another sharp pain hit Emma in the lower back and she leaned forward, panting.

              “Emma,” Killian asked again with concern, “are you _sure_ you’re okay?”

              She rubbed at her back, grimacing. “I think I’ve just been in this position for too long. Can you help me up?”

              He rushed to her side, and slipped one arm around her back and grasped her upper arm. Then he eased her slowly to her feet. “Emma,” he said slowly, “I have to confess something to you, I –“

              “Killian,” she gasped, cutting him off, “um . . . my water just broke.”

              His eyes grew wide, but before he could say anything, Emma doubled over as a contraction gripped her. It hurt so badly, she cried out. Killian picked up his leather jacket and spread it out on the floor, then eased her down onto it. She cried out again as another contraction begin. Shit, they were really close together.

              “Emma, I am _so_ sorry. I feel like this is all my fault.”

              Emma sagged against the wall as the contraction eased, and she gave him a confused expression. “What in the world are you talking about? How could this possibly be your fault?”

              He swiped at his lower lip with his tongue, which sent a delightful swoop through her belly despite her labor pains. He then scratched nervously behind his ear.

              “Well, you see, right before the elevator got stuck, I . . . “ he sighed deeply, “I wished that I had more time on the elevator with you. I couldn’t even seem to spit out a _hello_ when I saw you. You’re just so beautiful, you took my breath away. Literally. So I found myself thinking if only I had gotten on the elevator sooner, maybe –“

              “Killian,” Emma cut him off again, a ridiculous grin filling her face, “stop. I wished the same thing.”

              His face brightened and an equally goofy grin filled his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but Emma cried out in pain again as another contraction hit her.

              “Oh God,” she shouted as she drew her knees up, “I feel like I gotta push!”

              Killian fell to his knees in front of her and hurriedly peeled off her wet leggings and panties. Definitely _not_ the fantasy she had envisioned for the first time he would do that. “I see the baby’s head!”

              “What!” Emma cried out, tears slipping down her face. “I can’t have this baby in an elevator! I just can’t!”

              Killian grasped her knees and looked intensely into her face. “Emma, listen to me. Remember what I said? You’re an open book, love. And just like I know you’re intelligent, I also know you’re strong. You can do this!”

              Emma nodded her head, biting down on her lower lip as another contraction seized her. She couldn’t fight the urge, and began to push, a scream tearing through her.

              “The head’s almost out,” Killian announced, hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt.

              “What the hell are you doing?”

              “We need something to wrap the baby in,” he explained as he removed the shirt completely.

              “Seriously?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “We could have used the emergency blanket.”

              “Oh . . .right . . . I, uh, wasn’t thinking.”

              Great. Just great. Now she had to stare at his muscular chest covered in sexy dark hair when she was supposed to be –

              “Ahhhhh!” she screamed as the urge to push overwhelmed her again.

              “The head and shoulders are out, Swan,” he encouraged her, “I think it will only take one more push.”

              Emma took a deep breath and bore down one more time with a strangled groan. A baby’s cry pierced the air, and she peered over her knees on trembling arms. Killian was laughing in wonder as he gathered the baby in his shirt. He got a pair of scissors from the first aid kit and cut the umbilical cord. Then he wrapped the tiny figure into a bundle, swiping the blood and fluids from his eyes and mouth with one of the sleeves.

              “Did you know it was a boy?” he asked as he handed the baby to her.

              Emma could only nod, tears slipping down her face as she gazed down that the squirming, wailing little one in her arms. He wasn’t the prettiest looking thing in the world, all red and wrinkled and covered in blood and amniotic fluid, but he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She bent to kiss his tiny head, which was covered in brown peachy fuzz.

              She looked up into Killian’s eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

                            **********************************************************

              “Emma, you’ve _got_ to see this! You and Henry made the front page of the paper!”

              Emma clicked off the hospital TV as Mary Margaret came bustling into the room with today’s paper in one hand and a coffee for David in the other. It was Emma’s third episode in a row of Fixer-Upper, and she was glad for a different distraction for her pain. There was only so much shiplap she could watch Joanna Gaines marvel over. Emma grimaced as she shifted. Why had no one warned her about the excruciating pain _after_ giving birth? She felt like she had been ripped in two from the pelvis down. And mesh panties? Really? Was there no limit to the humiliation?

              But then a soft, cooing sound came from the bassinet by Emma’s side. She leaned over and admired Henry’s plump cheeks and tiny button nose. Yes, he was worth it. Because of the circumstances of his birth, they were keeping both him and Emma in the hospital for three days for observation. Emma was secretly glad. Not only because of the pain she was in (her swift labor had apparently resulted in severe tearing), but because she still felt overwhelmed at times about this whole mothering gig.

              Although she did have Mary Margaret to help her. The woman had no children of her own, but she was a third grade teacher who seemed to have a nurturing nature embedded in her DNA. She stood now beside Emma’s bed, waving the paper in her face.

              “Read it, it’s just the sweetest article,” she enthused, “I mean really, Emma, it sounds like something out of a Hallmark movie.”

              Emma smoothed the paper out on her lap. “Local Realtor Delivers Baby on Elevator” read the headline. She wasn’t surprised that the article gave more information about Killian than about her. She was an unemployed single mom while Killian Jones was probably one of Boston’s most eligible bachelors.

              But it was the picture that brought moisture to Emma’s eyes. It was a photograph of Emma in the ambulance, looking down at little Henry in her arms with a peaceful smile on her face. Killian sat beside her, bending over to look in wonder at the baby. Henry’s tiny fist was wrapped around Killian’s finger. Killian looked incredibly handsome, the muscles of his chest and arms accentuated by the Boston Fire Department tshirt he had been given. Women were probably calling the paper by the hundreds asking for his number. But that wasn’t what had Emma choked up. She felt on the verge of tears because if you took away the headline, they looked like . . . a family.

              “Emma, are you okay?” Mary Margaret asked with concern.

              Emma blinked and shook her head. “Of course.”

Henry saved her from having to explain further as he took up wailing at that very moment. Mary Margaret forgot about Emma instantly and turned to gather up the baby, cooing at him and kissing his little head. Of course, he continued to wail and squirm.

“I think he’s hungry,” Mary Margaret chuckled as she handed him to Emma.

Henry had latched on and was nursing hungrily when a soft knock sounded at the door. Emma was covered sufficiently by Henry’s blanket, so she called out, “Come in,” fully expecting it to be yet another nurse coming to poke at one of them.

Her eyes widened in shock when Killian Jones stepped through the door, a bouquet of roses in his hand. He stopped in the doorway hesitantly when he saw that she was nursing the baby.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Swan,” he stuttered, his face turning a bit pink, “I didn’t realize you were feeding the baby.”

She chuckled, thoroughly delighted at his embarrassment. For some reason, it was incredibly endearing considering how much of her he’d seen in the elevator. “I’m covered, don’t worry.”

“Well, um,” he hedged, glancing behind him, “I brought some people with me.”

Mary Margaret intervened, grasping Killian by the arm and pulling him through the door. “Well come on in! Your friends too, I mean, we are _so_ grateful for how you helped Emma.”

David rose too, and put out his hand to shake Killian’s heartily. Behind Killian came a taller, broader man with a tall, slender blonde woman.

“Emma,” Killian said, “I’d like you to meet my brother Liam and his wife Elsa.”

Emma grinned and nodded, since her arms were full with the baby. “Killian told me so much about you while we were stuck on the elevator. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Liam grinned. Emma though to herself how different the two brothers looked, except for that smile. They both had those deep dimples when they grinned broadly enough. And they both had those bright blue eyes.

“My little brother didn’t tell you too many embarrassing stories, I hope,” the man teased.

“That’s _younger_ brother,” Killian retorted, “and the only embarrassing stories are about me.”

Elsa rolled her eyes, “Oh, you two.” She stepped towards Emma and grasped her free hand. “I for one am honored to meet _you,_ Emma. Liam and I have a four year old, and I cannot imagine giving birth in those circumstances!”

By that time, Henry’s little tummy was full and Emma readjusted her gown and put him to her shoulder to burp him. He was always most attentive when he was full, and everyone marveled at his precious little face and big brown eyes. Emma let all the visitors hold him for a bit, and they sat and chatted. It felt like they had all been friends for years. Elsa especially felt to Emma like a long lost sister.

Yet throughout the visit, Emma’s gaze kept drifting to Killian. He had been the last to hold Henry, and hadn’t put him down yet. At one point, Henry got a little fussy, and Killian walked with him to the window. His back was to the room, but Emma could hear the sound of him whispering to the baby. It made her heart feel like it might burst.

Emma blinked and turned to Elsa, suddenly realizing that she had been watching Killian and Henry so intently, that she had missed the woman’s question. “I’m sorry,” Emma muttered, “what did you say?”

Elsa laughed demurely. “Don’t worry about it Emma, I’m sure you’re tired. Liam and I have to go pick up little Alice from preschool soon anyway.”

The two of them rose from their chairs and shook hands again with David and Mary Margaret. Liam then turned to Kilian and punched him lightly in the shoulder.

“Don’t mess this up, little brother.”

Killian gaped like a fish while his face turned bright red. He glanced awkwardly at Emma, but Elsa chose that moment to lean down and give Emma a hug.

“I thought Killian was exaggerating when he went on and on about how beautiful you are,” she whispered in Emma’s ear, “but he wasn’t exaggerating. I look forward to being sisters soon.”

Now it was Emma’s turn to blush as Elsa stood and bid her goodbye with a wink. The door was scarcely shut behind the pair when Mary Margaret rose suddenly from her chair, “David, I just realized we never had lunch. Let’s head down to the cafeteria”

“I’m good,” David told her with a wave of his hand. “We had that big breakfast late.”

Mary Margaret scowled at her husband, “I want lunch with _you_ , David. _Now._ ”

For a minute, David looked up at his wife utterly confused. She stood with her hands on her hips, and gave him non-verbal communication by jerking her head first towards Emma and then towards Killian.

“Oh,” David finally said, “Ohhh, right!”

Emma turned awkwardly towards Killian and shrugged as Mary Margaret practically dragged David from the room.

“Neither of our families are very subtle, are they?” he chuckled, breaking the tension.

“No,” Emma laughed in return, tucking her hair behind her ears, “they aren’t.”

Killian walked closer to the bed, and every step he took made Emma’s heart pound harder. He eased down to sit next to her, still cradling Henry in his arms. He looked down at the little boy, shaking his head in wonder. “I can’t explain it, Emma. This feeling of connection when I look in his face.”

“Well,” Emma replied hoarsely, “you did deliver him.”

Killian looked up, his eyes softening as he drank in every feature of Emma’s face. “No, it isn’t just that. Because I felt the same way the moment I stepped on that elevator. The minute my eyes met yours.”

Emma gasped softly in amazement at his words. Then she slowly lifted her hand to trace the line of his jaw. Then she cupped his face, reveling in the feel of his scruff against her palm. He turned his face, his eyes fluttering closed, and kissed her palm. Emma slid her hand around to the nape of his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair. It was just as soft as she had imagined. Then she yanked him towards her and pressed her lips to his.

She heard him give a soft growl of pleasure in the back of his throat, and she titled her head to deepen the kiss. His tongue swiped along her lower lip, and she opened for him. Then there was the pleasant push and pull as they drank each other in. Time didn’t seem to exist as the kiss continued.

Until Henry suddenly let out a sharp cry, and they hurriedly pulled apart. They both looked down with concern at the baby still settled in the crook of Killian’s arm, and they both chuckled at his little furrowed brow regarding them with what looked like an irritated expression.

“Sorry, lad,” Killian said brushing a finger along his downy cheek, “I was so afraid your mother’s kisses would rattle me and make me drop you, I was holding you extra tight.”

Emma was speechless at his tender words towards her son. She reached out to brush the hair from Killian’s brow, then traced the shell of his ear, and threaded her fingers through his hair once more. Maybe it was a bit premature, but she couldn’t help thinking what a wonderful father he would be.

Six months later, the photograph from the newspaper was the first one Emma and Killian hung in their new home. Turned out it really was their first family portrait.  


**Author's Note:**

> Some of you have been asking me to get on tumblr, and I finally did. My page is pretty crappy, and the whole thing is incredibly confusing to me, but I'm there. Same pseud - @searchingwardrobes This story was posted there as well. Come check it out and help me make sense of it all! :)


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